Unfathomable
by crazy about twilight
Summary: Several small scenes in Twilight -- from Edward's point of view.


**Summary:** Several small scenes in Twilight -- from Edward's point of view.

- - - - - - - - - -

"_You don't like the cold." It wasn't a question._

"_Or the wet."_

"_Forks must be a difficult place for you to live," he mused._

"_You have no idea," I muttered darkly._

_He looked fascinated by what I said, for some reason I couldn't imagine._

- - -

"It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?" I asked Bella. For some unimaginable reason, I found myself eager to hear more of her opinion on the cool weather. Only several hours ago, I'd caught a brief snippet of her conversation with Mike, and therein discovered her intense dislike of the freezing precipitation. Something about that fascinated me – if she preferred the warm, why on earth did she move to such a gloomy area? My stomach churned as I waited for her response. Because of her guarded mind, I unfortunately had to inquire of her reasons, rather than sort through her thoughts. Perhaps that was justification enough for my enthusiasm for her reply.

Or perhaps I just wished to hear more of her startlingly striking voice.

A flash of intuition – mixed with an unexpected note of panic – sparked in her eyes. "Not really," she answered, unconsciously shrugging her shoulders. The gesture sent a small wave of air careening off her body and toward my face, and I stopped breathing as her scent hit my nose like a wrecking ball.

"You don't like the cold."

"Or the wet," she added.

So her comments from earlier were completely accurate. Residing in this dull and overcast town would be seemingly hard for a person who disliked rain and its icy kin.

"Forks must be a difficult place for you to live," I pondered aloud.

Her chocolate brown eyes darkened with intensity. "You have no idea."

I held in a sigh as another scan of her thoughts proved to be a failure. No matter how often or intensely I attempted, her mind would always be a vast expanse of nothingness in my head. _You have no idea._ If only Bella knew how incredibly precise she was.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"_Don't move," someone instructed._

"_Get Tyler out of the van!" someone else shouted. There was a flurry of activity around us. I tried to get up, but Edward's cold hand pushed my shoulder down._

"_Just stay put for now."_

"_But it's cold," I complained. It surprised me when he chuckled under his breath. There was an edge to the sound._

- - -

As several people took the initiative to break from the crowd and come forward to help the crash victims, I kept my eye on Bella. She was wincing slightly; I sympathized. Her head had cracked quite roughly onto the pavement. Her outfit was rumpled and situated oddly against her body, clearly from her impact with not only the blacktop, but myself, as well.

The events that just took place recurred in my mind, and I found myself at a stalemate between two emotions. On one hand, I felt relieved, immeasurably glad that Tyler's van had not crashed head-on with Bella. But on the other hand, Bella seemed to notice my quick – and apparently, not stealthy – leap to save her life. My siblings' thoughts flew in and out of my head, reminding me of how idiotic – no matter how important or self-serving – my actions were.

Bella tried to sit up, but I placed a hand on her shoulder and prevented her from moving; I didn't want her head to pain more than necessary.

"Just stay put for now," I commanded lightly.

"But it's cold," she whined.

Whether she was speaking of the cool parking lot beneath her, the chilly muggy air surrounding her, or my freezing hand atop her, I wasn't sure. I chuckled blackly as I considered which of the three she was speaking of – if not all.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"_Aren't you hungry?" he asked, distracted._

"_No." I didn't feel like mentioning that my stomach was already full – of butterflies. "You?" I looked at the empty table in front of him._

"_No, I'm not hungry." I didn't understand his expression – it looked like he was enjoying some private joke._

- - -

_I don't like the way he's looking at her… they both seem upset. I wonder if I should intervene and do something…_

Mike's worried voice broke through my staring contest with Bella, and a chuckle rippled through my body. As though Mike, a human, stood the slightest chance at mediating me – a vampire.

"What?" Bella asked me, curious as to my sudden outbreak of laughter.

"Your boyfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you – he's debating whether or not to come break up our fight." I chuckled once more – only this time to cover up my startling uneasiness at the thought of Bella having a boyfriend. Especially if that boy were to be Mike Newton.

_And not myself_, my subconscious chimed in.

"I don't know who you're talking about, but I'm sure you're wrong, anyway." Our stare down had clearly affected Bella; her voice was cold.

She didn't know how wrong she was with her accusation. But then again, she wasn't exactly aware that I could read minds. If she were to know that trivial little fact, then perhaps she would understand how incorrect her statement was.

"I'm not. I told you, most people are easy to read."

"Except me, of course," she retorted.

"Yes. Except for you." I tried to contain my face and not express how much my obtrusion to her mind bothered me. From her facial reaction to my words, I doubt that I did very well. "I wonder why that is."

Bella looked away and took a sip of her bottle, which advertised lemonade; I noticed that she didn't have a lunch tray. The observation troubled me.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"No." I had the feeling she wasn't telling the entire truth. "You?"

"No, I'm not hungry."

I chose not to mention that I was, in fact, incredibly hungry for something – but it didn't at all resemble anything I could buy from the cafeteria.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_I spun and caught the door before it closed, darting out of the infirmary. I could feel Edward right behind me._

"_You actually listened to me." He was stunned._

"_I smelled the blood," I said, wrinkling my nose. Lee wasn't sick from watching other people, like me._

"_People can't smell blood," he contradicted._

"_Well, I can – that's what makes me sick. It smells like rust… and salt."_

_He was staring at me with an unfathomable expression._

"_What?" I asked._

"_It's nothing."_

- - -

The fresh scent of blood hit me as I stood in the nurse's station with Bella. Though the fragrance wasn't nearly as sweet as that of Bella's, it was potent enough to make my mouth pool with venom – more venom than I felt I could handle while in Bella's presence.

"Oh no," I murmured. "Go out to the office, Bella."

She stared at me, confused.

"Trust me – go," I told her, mentally preparing a quick getaway from the bleeding boy. With Bella's stubbornness, I wasn't sure why I had even asked her to leave the room; she wouldn't do as I said.

To my immense surprise, she spun around and fled the infirmary before the door closed. I attempted to clear my face of shock as I followed close behind her.

"You actually listened to me."

Bella scrunched her nose as she replied, "I smelled the blood."

That was impossible; absolutely ludicrous. Only vampires could smell the thick, luscious substance. "People can't smell blood," I informed her.

"Well, I can," she retorted. "That's what makes me sick. It smells like rust… and salt."

Her reply rendered me speechless; it was almost the exact same thing I had said to Carlisle after he changed me. It was after I had finished my first hunt; Carlisle inquired how I interpreted the scent of blood. I'd told him with surprising certainty, "It has a slightly sweet undertone… but mainly, the smell consists of salt and rust. Sour and sweet at the same time."

Bella's voice drew me back to the present. "What?" she asked.

I quickly shook the thoughts from my mind. "It's nothing."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"_How old are you, Bella?" His voice sounded frustrated for some reason I couldn't imagine. He'd stopped the car, and I realized we were at Charlie's house already. The rain was so heavy that I could barely see the house at all. It was like the car was submerged under a river._

"_I'm seventeen," I responded a little confused._

"_You don't seem seventeen."_

_His tone was reproachful; it made me laugh._

"_What?" he asked, curious again._

"_My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year." I laughed, and then sighed. "You don't seem much like a junior in high school yourself," I noted._

_He made a face and changed the subject._

- - -

I drove Bella to her home, and, all the while, contemplated her personality. The way she responded to my questions – and the way she carried herself in general – was entirely beyond her years. She was quite mature for her age, I noted. Rather unlike every other girl I had met and heard the thoughts of.

She seemed so… grown up; I wondered if she had much of a lively childhood, or if her home life had forced her to age so quickly.

"How old are you, Bella?" I asked her.

Her brow furrowed as she gazed at me. "I'm seventeen."

"You don't seem seventeen."

My response, for some unimaginable reason, caused her to laugh. As her face smoothed out, I felt myself grow annoyed at the fact that I had to question her reaction, rather than pick it out of her thoughts.

"What?"

"My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year." She laughed once more, and then sighed. "Well, someone has to be the adult."

She must have been referring to her mother in comparison to herself; so her life in Phoenix _had_ made her mature fast, as I'd expected.

"You don't seem much like a junior in high school, yourself," she finished.

She wasn't far off in her speculation.

I was extremely quick to discontinue that train of conversation.


End file.
